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“Itsuki-niichan, these are pretty too, aren’t they?”
He looked like a tragedy, clutching that bouquet close to his chest, his typical grin muted to the tiniest of smiles. Blood reds, golden yellows, sunset oranges and pinks. Brown leaves, black stems. Buds curling gentle up his arm. He looked like a tragedy, pale against the bouquet, smiling sorrowful as he stroked the delicate petal of a pink sweet pea, gazing at the ghosts in their window reflection. Careful of his strength, careful of his carelessness.
They hadn’t the funds for it. Not when they were already stretching their budget thin, balancing three bodies plus Rokuta’s neverending appetite, none at work. Kei’s leftover funds could only support them for so long.
But Kei would call it fine. He would forgive anything, no matter the cost, if they claimed it important. And this…
“Itsuki-niichan.” Rokuta’s gaze refocused on his faint outline in the glass. “Please?”
Pink verbena. Yellow violet. Red zinnia. Black willow leaves. Tulip, sunflower, calendula, sweet pea. It wasn’t even a pretty bouquet.
And yet. And yet.
“For those two bouquets, that’d be 12,000 yen, please.”
He handed over what cash they had packed. 1, 2, 3, 4… 10,000 yen. Predictably, it wasn’t enough. He didn’t like the way Rokuta’s heart seemed to shatter at the realization. He didn’t like the way he hesitated at taking them back into his arms, at the way his hands trembled at the thought of returning either one. They were only 2,000 under. Kei was a call away.
And yet. And yet. The budget sheets, he thought.
“U—um… I don’t mind paying the rest.”
From behind, someone stepped forward. The only other customer in the shop, black-haired with blue tips, dressed comfortably in blue-camo cargo pants and a baggy black shirt under a bulky, navy jacket. The voice was familiar, and the face even moreso, though the demeanor slotted foreign in his memories.
“Ah, you’re… from 1nm8…”
Rokuta placed it faster than him, strangely enough.
“Eh? HANCHO?”
And there it was, the name to the face. “Inukai Yuto?”
Yes, he’d seen him. The two-sided warden of GokuLuck: a blustering mess off-stage who gained a vicious confidence once his hand made contact with a microphone. Whether or not he was the type to visit flower shops on unremarkable weekends, he hadn’t given thought. Had never even bothered, or rather thought, to contemplate.
“I didn’t think I’d be meeting you two here, Rokuta-kun, Itsuki-kun.” HANCHO offered them a polite, if not wobbly, smile. “Um… the transaction… here.”
He stopped him before he could hand over his card. “You don’t have to.”
“It’s only 2,000 yen,” Inukai reassured him. “I—I don’t mind. It’s really no problem.”
Before he could protest more, Rokuta tugged on the edge of his sleeve. “It’s fine, right…?” He shifted in place. “Just this once, Itsuki-niichan. Just this time, it should be fine.”
Between two earnest faces, his reluctance crumbled. “We owe you.”
HANCHO beamed. “Don’t bother. It—it really isn’t a problem, I promise.”
The rest of the transaction went smoothly. Rokuta gathered both bouquets in his arms, some slight cheer back into his face. “Thank you so much, HANCHO-san!”
“It’s, ah, Inukai, like this.” He scratched his cheek.
“Thank you then, Inukai-san.” Itsuki bowed. Checked his watch. “We should get going before we miss our bus.”
“The bus… Ah! I—I should probably do the same!” Inukai fumbled with the plastic of the credit card, turning to the mildly amused face of the store clerk. As the transaction went through, he offered them a final farewell. “Stay safe!”
He and Rokuta exited the shop. “No shortcuts or distractions today,” he reminded Rokuta. “We’ll have to wait four hours for the next one if we miss ours.”
Rokuta nodded, serious. “I know.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, save for the odd grumble of Rokuta’s stomach. Partway through, Rokuta’s free hand warmed its way into his, dry and warm against his cool skin. A grounding, miraculous sensation. Even like this, the cool breeze, the aroma of flowers, the slight crunch of pavement against their feet, it all was a miracle. Even like this, after so long… Even like this, normal people on an overall normal day, it was all a miracle. One only they could understand.
Rokuta swung their connected hands. Waved hello at the stray cats, gazed longingly through glittery windows, pointed out shapes in the clouds. Childish, bright Rokuta, soaking in the warm, midday sun.
Innocent, through and through.
He stopped them at an empty bus stop. “We’re here.”
They sat down inside. Itsuki took off his backpack, handing over a bag of mixed nuts and pre-cut orange slices for Rokuta’s growling stomach. He took a sip of water himself. The day was balmy and warm, nearly halcyon if he were any more optimistic. He wondered if it would have been more fitting for the clouds to instead cover the sky, rumbling in warning of oncoming storm. For the temperature to have dropped, for frost to cover the ground, every step a crunch against frozen dirt.
Maybe it would have been a sign. A sign that the heavens never cared for tossed-away, broken kids like them.
Rokuta dropped his head on his shoulder. As always, his weight was comforting. A blanket to his wandering thoughts. He let his hands toy with Rokuta’s messy hair, combing through the permanent tangles, smoothing out stubborn cowlicks. It was a familiar song and dance, back in their days at the facility. When the scientists allowed them to see each other, letting them into one white room with the simple command, “Play.”
Nobody wanted to play at first. Not even Rokuta. Only Zero was willing to entertain himself on the stacking blocks or coloring books or whatever else they bothered to throw in there, babbling to whoever would listen.
Zero, whose babbles devolved through the days to erratic nonsense. He’d always thought his insanity had been the scientists’ breaking point, that they’d tossed him away for it. Maybe it’d been a breaking point, but not for them. Maybe they’d been the ones tossed away.
When Zero left, it had been just him and Rokuta. Five and Six. And they’d found solace in each other, just like this.
The rapid sound of footsteps broke him out of his musings. Through blurry, scratched glass, a familiar face emerged.
“Oh—oh, I’m not late, am I? This is the bus to…” Inukai Yuto staggered to his feet, palms pressed against the bus stop walls. “It’s you? Um… Itsuki and Rokuta?”
“Inukai-san?” Rokuta tilted his head. “What’re you doing here?”
“To—to visit my comrades…” Inukai clutched his bouquet to his chest. “Are you two also…?”
Rokuta seemed to hesitate, before slowly nodding. “We’re going to see old friends.”
“Oh. But you’re only…” Off in the distance, the blue and white figure of the city bus approached. It pulled up just as Inukai murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Itsuki stood up, mentally checking they had everything. Flowers, food, incense, water, tickets. He helped Rokuta to his feet. “Come. We should get going.”
The bus was as empty as the bus stop, save for an old woman dozing in the back seats and a young lady with a handheld game controller, headphones lodged firmly in her ears. He and Rokuta took seats by the front of the bus. Inukai sat across from them.
“U—um…” Fiddling with his fingers, Inukai glanced down. “I know you don’t know me very well… but if you wanna talk, I don’t mind hearing you out. I’ve been through… so…”
“No need.”
Rokuta curled into his side. Even with his giant figure, he found a way to slot himself neatly against Itsuki’s body. “Like what?”
“Well, I…” Inukai stared at his hands. He rubbed at a callus midway down his middle finger.
“I used to be a mercenary,” he confessed. “All of my close comrades died… we were betrayed. I don’t remember how, but I… I was one of the only survivors.”
“Oh.” Rokuta paused. He admitted, quietly, “We were experimented on. Everyone else also died.”
“I… I see…”
Silence. Itsuki gazed out through the window, leaning his head against Rokuta’s. The bustling city streets, towering and gray, transitioned to rolling green fields, golden grass, blue sky. Even outside of the facility, this was a foreign sight. Nature and humans in harmony, as far as the eye could see.
“It’s so pretty,” Rokuta murmured. “Let’s ask Kei-chan if we can live on a farm.”
“Nonsense. We’d barely make enough to feed you.”
“But I’m strong!”
“Hey—!”
Rokuta lifted him overhead. “See? I could do lots of the work and we’d make lots and lots of food! It’d be, um. Efficient, right?”
“Rokuta, put me down.” He could feel the prickling stares of Inukai and the handheld girl boring into them. He cleared his throat once he was reseated, rearranging the folds of his jacket. “Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean that running a farm is feasible. We need to know a lot about plants, for one.”
“So? Itsuki-niichan is smart! You already know lots about plants!”
“More than what I already know. And besides, a lot of farming nowadays is done by machine.”
Rokuta drooped. “Oh.”
“W—Well…” Inukai raised his hand. “If you’re not farming to turn a profit, you don’t necessarily need to use machines.”
“Really?!” He could practically see Rokuta’s ears perking back up. “So we could really go live on a farm forever?”
“I don’t see why not.” Inukai’s smile was indulgent. “O—of course, it would take a lot of work and time studying… You’d probably need a lot of money to buy a farm too… It’s definitely not something you could do on a whim. But if you work hard…!”
“Don’t encourage him.”
“We could do it!” Rokuta leapt across the bus, throwing his arms around Inukai. “Inukai-san is super smart too! If we start a farm, we should invite him!”
“W—Woah!”
“Rokuta!” Itsuki grabbed him by his collar, dragging him back to their side of the bus. “I’m sorry about his behavior. He gets too enthusiastic.”
“Oh, he’s no problem. C—compared to some people, he’s not bad at all.”
Rokuta beamed. “So you wouldn’t mind? Living on a farm with us? Oh, and Kei-chan too, of course!”
Inukai smiled back. “Maybe. I have a lot of responsibilities in the city, so not now. I’d have to think about it.”
“Like your teammates?”
“Yes.” Inukai rubbed his fingers together. “They—they’re a bit… too much for the other wardens. I’m the only one who can handle them, so…”
“Eh? But you’re so small!”
“Rokuta!”
“Ehehe…” Inukai shook his head. “They’re good kids… sometimes they’re a little too much, but if you’re patient with them, they can be kind. I… don’t think everything needs to be solved with violence, so…”
“So it’s because Inukai-san has a big heart.” Rokuta nodded. “Mhm, I get it!”
“...Something like that. I—I’m pretty strong too, though.”
“You are? Can you also lift up Itsuki-niichan?”
“Um…” Two curious gazes turned towards him.
“You’re not testing that.”
Inukai rubbed his arms. “Maybe not now. But if I were to estimate, you might be stronger.”
“Hehe.” Rokuta grinned. “I’m really strong! I can crush a frying pan, too. But I get hungry really quickly.”
As if on cue, his stomach growled. Itsuki sighed, handing over an apple and a sleeve of crackers.
“Do you wanna share?” Rokuta asked. He cupped the apple in his hands and, without even breaking a sweat, broke it in half. “Here!”
“Oh! W—what about your brother…?”
“Itsuki-niichan doesn’t eat outside of meals. He says only fuel-inefficient bodies like mine need to eat so much everyday.”
Itsuki coughed. “It’s because you are fuel inefficient. Most people don’t need to eat five meals a day to feel satiated.”
“Ah… I see…” Inukai held up a palm in a universal stop signal. “I wouldn’t want to take away food if you need it so much. I’m not feeling hungry myself, so…”
“But…!”
Itsuki made eye contact with him. “You should just take it. He whines if you reject him.”
“Oh. Well…” Hesitantly, he leaned forward to accept the apple. “Thank you, then. I appreciate the gesture.”
Inukai nibbled at the apple, eating at a pace Itsuki could only describe as slower than Rokuta was fast. If Rokuta could make a pack of mixed nuts disappear in less than a minute, Inukai could probably take a minute to eat one peanut. It was a little absurd. By the time Rokuta had gone through most of their snacks for the day, Inukai was barely two-thirds past his apple half.
“Why do you eat so slowly?” Itsuki placed the bag away from Rokuta before crossing his arms. “It’s inefficient.”
“I… I forgot to pack lunch this morning… and they said that if you eat slowly you can make yourself think you’re fuller than you actually are. So I’m trying to make this apple last.”
“Hmm.” He noted that down. “That is an interesting strategy. Did you hear that, Rokuta?”
Rokuta nodded his head. “So… eat slower?”
“I—it’s only psychological though. It can’t counteract a fast metabolism.”
Itsuki hummed. “Still worth an attempt.”
Their conversation was cut short by the bus finally reaching their destination: a Bhuddist shrine with a sprawling cemetery. The young woman got off first, followed by him and Rokuta. They watched as Inukai gently shook the old woman awake before descending, flowers in tow.
“I… suppose I’ll see you two later.”
“Maybe.”
“Bye-bye! Um… tell your friends I said hi…?”
Inukai smiled at that. Small, though it rang remarkably genuine. “I will.”
“I’ll tell them you said hi, too!”
Itsuki let Rokuta pull him through the shrine interior, pausing to wash their hands, fill a pail, and light their incense, before wandering through the outdoor cemetery. More than a little lost, they wandered past the graves, searching for the one labeled “Miyama.” It was more than generous for Kei to offer his family gravesite for Alter Trigger’s failed experiments, to go so far as to gather what he could of their bones and bodies and allow their remains to join his family’s under the headstone. To allow their names to be etched beside that of his parents and grandparents and those before him.
“They’re all my family,” he had told him, firmly. “Rokuta’s brothers and sisters. So they’re mine, too.”
They hadn’t all been so close. Number Three had been bratty and later violent, lashing out at whoever dared talk to her. Number Eight had gone silent with fear, opening her mouth in a silent scream at any contact, physical or verbal. And they barely knew Number Four. He had died a year into the experiments, a warning of what the future would hold.
But even they deserved the dignity of a proper burial.
Rokuta tugged at his hand. “Look. It’s ours.”
Modest and smooth, save for the Miyama name engraved in the stone. An urn sat in front of the grave. Rokuta set down the pail of water, reaching for the rags they had borrowed from the shrine. They kneeled down, wetting and wringing the cloths before carefully running them over the surface of the gravestone. It wasn’t his from birth but it was his now, the grave.
He wondered how Kei’s ancestors felt about it. Strangers in their family burial site, a stranger paying his respects. But if they were as kind as Kei and Rokuta, perhaps they never would have cared.
Itsuki placed the flowers into the vases by the headstone. They seemed unbalanced: on one side, a sunset, and on the other, white as snow. Yet it felt right, to have both by the monument.
Rokuta lifted up the head of the urn, placing the incense inside. He knelt down first.
“...Hi,” he started with. “To… Mama and Papa. I don’t really know you well, sorry. In that place, I forgot all about you… but that must have meant your memory was too happy for me to keep. I forgot about Kei-chan too, but he found me, and I’m happy he did. He’s very nice to me, even if it’s hard to think of him as my brother. I think one day, it might happen. I’m very happy with Kei-chan.
“Itsuki-niichan is here too. He took care of me in that facility. He’s been as kind as Kei-chan. And since we escaped, we’re doing well.
“To my brothers and sisters in the facility, hi. The outside world was just as wonderful as you all told me. The sky is blue and the sun is warm and the breeze is refreshing. I love the trees and the birds and the dogs and—and everything! It’s all so amazing. The food is way tastier, too. And the people… not everyone is mean, Number Three. Just today, we met a very nice man named Inukai Yuto. He says hi.
“I’m sad you couldn’t escape with us. But Itsuki and me and Zero too, we’ll experience it all for you. You’re always in our thoughts, and I… I miss you a lot, even if I didn’t like the facility. Just please don’t fight with Mama and Papa and everyone about being buried here. You’re all my brothers and sisters so… you all deserve to be here. Kei-chan said it was fine, so it’s fine, right?
“...That’s… all, I think. I’ll bring Kei-chan with me next time. He said he didn’t want to impose, but that’s silly. You’ll love him lots. I hope you’re happy in heaven. …Bye-bye.”
Rokuta got up on wobbly knees. His cheeks were a blotchy red, and he was sniffling. He reached out for a hug. Itsuki let him embrace him, arms crushing his body as if he were his final tether into the waking world. And perhaps that was part of it, the truth. Just as Rokuta was his blanket, a reprieve from the memories, and reminder of the ways things had improved, he was the same for Rokuta: a fragment of the past, more fortunate now than ever before.
“Itsuki-niichan.” Rokuta let go, rubbing at his cheeks. “It’s your turn.”
He knelt down where Rokuta had before, clasping his hands. For a moment, he wondered what to say.
“Hello,” he tried. “Miyama-san, thank you for allowing us to bury our siblings here. We may not be family by blood, but we, too, think of Rokuta as our brother. We don’t hope to desecrate your grave. Please take no offense.”
What else was there to say that Rokuta hadn’t yet said? “Your son, Kei, has been a tremendous help. We wouldn’t have been able to survive without him. For him, I hold nothing but the highest respect. I am forever grateful to you for raising him to be such a wonderful person, and it was a tragedy that you were taken from him in such a cruel way.
“My siblings… I hope the afterlife is treating you well.” He let their faces, their voices, their memories echo through his mind. Number One’s penchant for the piano. Number Two’s love for flowers. Number Three’s ambitions. Number Four’s soft humming. Number Seven’s beloved animals. Number Eight’s vivid drawings.
“The living world is treating us well. We have few troubles. Rokuta’s brother, Kei, is taking good care of us. You will be forever remembered. Kazuma, Jiro, Mitsuki, Yoshiro, Nanami, Hana… please rest in peace, in that which we never knew while living. Please rest, and dream of nothing.”
He opened his eyes. A gray tombstone, a blue sky, a golden sun. Blue birds, emerald leaves, a sunset of flowers. Beside him, Rokuta held his hand, buried his face into the crook of his neck.
“They’ll never see this,” he realized. “They’ll never—never be able to know this.” Their dreams would never be realized. They would never see them again, not in anything but his memories.
A tear trickled down his face. Then another. Then another. For the first time since he’d left that laboratory, he cried.
And Rokuta, through it all, held him close.
When they met up with Inukai again, he looked different. The faintest outline of tear tracks lined his face, and his clothes seemed more rumpled than before, but it wasn’t just that. It was in the more prominent streaks of blue in his hair, the relaxed yet ready posture, the way his eyes seemed to glint almost red in the sun.
“HANCHO,” he realized. Inukai’s other half.
“Brats,” HANCHO greeted back, smirking at them. “‘Fraid Yuto’s a bit disposed of, so you’re stuck with me for the rest of the day.”
“Oh.” Rokuta’s grip on Itsuki’s hand tightened. “Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s fine.” HANCHO grimaced. “Wiped himself out crying. Sure, it let me say my good-byes too, but now I’m stuck here ‘cause he’s too pathetic to come back out.”
“Don’t call Inukai-san pathetic.” Rokuta pouted.
“Nah, he kind of is, isn’t he? Forgot his lunch on the table ‘n everything.” He sighed. “I’m starving. You brats bring lunch with you?”
“We ate,” Itsuki informed him. They’d left half of it on the gravestone, too. Foods that their siblings never would have been able to eat in the laboratory, would have never thought of being able to eat. Apple juice, onigiri, pineapple bread. Fresh vegetables, steamed and seasoned to perfection. Carefully prepared meats, mouthwateringly juicy.
“I’m still hungry though,” Rokuta admitted. They hadn’t much left in the bag after lunch, and Rokuta had eaten the rest.
HANCHO assessed them both, as if checking for threats. He wondered how dangerous they looked, one overgrown puppy and one emotionless teenager pressed up to each other’s sides, both weary from crying. “Why don’t we stop by the convenience store,” he suggested. “Buy us some lunch.”
“Really?” Rokuta perked up. “You mean it?”
“Sure. Why not.”
Itsuki frowned. “We wouldn’t want to owe you.”
“Consider it me paying ya back.” He began walking, gesturing for them to follow. “For lettin’ me see something interesting.”
The trek into town took half an hour. Short enough that they had enough time to loiter in town and leave in time for the bus’ arrival. Half an hour was long for Rokuta though, and by the time they stumbled into a convenience store, it showed, considering the fuss Rokuta’s stomach was making.
“Needy brat,” HANCHO commented, fishing out 2,000 yen from his wallet. “Buy whatever you want with that.”
“Wow!” Rokuta took the money with sparkling eyes. “Thanks so much, HANCHO-san!”
Itsuki watched as Rokuta bounded off, following his nose for the hot foods counter. When he realized he could buy more than just a box of karaage with 2,000 yen, he began wandering the rest of the aisles, searching for more interesting foods.
“You not hungry?” HANCHO asked, tucking his hands into his pockets. He strolled up to the hot foods counter, ordering two nikuman. He followed.
“No.” The store clerk handed HANCHO the nikuman, and he duly paid. “I’m not fuel inefficient like Rokuta.”
“Heh. For his older brother, you sure call him coldly sometimes.” He offered him one of the buns. “For you.”
“I don’t need it.”
“People do stuff without needing to all the time. Just take it.”
“...Thank you.”
The skin was soft and fluffy, and the meat, hot and savory. It tasted richer than the normal nikuman, perhaps better or more tactfully seasoned. The meat was complimented well by the slight sweetness and light texture of the bun, elevating the experience to surprising heights.
“Not bad, eh? This place’s is the best, I’ve found. Worth every step.”
“It’s acceptable.”
HANCHO barked out a laugh. “No need to hold back, brat. Just call it tasty and get it over with. I can see in your face.”
“It’s… not bad,” he allowed.
“Good enough.”
They ate in silence. Like Inukai, HANCHO ate slowly, even though there was no more need to, not when they were surrounded by food and the man clearly had more than enough money to buy himself more. “Preserving food?”
“Hm? No.” HANCHO swallowed the last of his nikuman. “Habits from battle. You learn a lot when you’re at war.”
“Inukai said most of your comrades died.”
“He did?” Leaning against the counter, he raised his eyebrows. “Color me surprised. He doesn’t typically talk about it. Probably ‘cause he doesn’t remember it.”
“...He doesn’t?”
“Yeah, ‘cause I do.” He snorted. “Yuto’s a fuckin’ coward. I’ve gotta hold the shitty memories for him, since he’s too scared to do it himself.”
“I see.” Itsuki folded the napkin the nikuman was in. “What… is that like?”
“What? Livin’ in a headspace with Yuto?”
“Holding all the trauma for him.” He stared at the aisles of the convenience store. Over the soft music, he could more hear than see Rokuta humming along, cheerful as always. He murmured, “I wish I could forget, too.”
“So it’s like that, huh.”
He stumbled at the hard pat to his back, and choked out a muffled yelp at the next one. HANCHO watched him right himself with a sly grin. “You’re weak, brat.”
He coughed. “Shut up.”
“Like hell. If you want advice, listen well, ‘cause I don’t do this often.” HANCHO crossed his arms. “Why do you think I exist, brat?”
“To handle Inukai’s trauma.”
“Bingo. ‘Cause Yuto was too much of a fuckin’ coward to handle war, he ‘n I split.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “As much as he doesn’t understand it, I’m his ticket out. He doesn’t handle stress. I do. D’ya get me?”
“You… protect him.”
“That’s right. The Big Bad HANCHO who does all his shitty dirty work. Not that I’m complaining.” He grinned. “Did Yuto tell ya how everyone died?”
“He said you were betrayed.”
“A damn rat in the ranks. Do you know how he died?”
Itsuki shook his head.
“Yuto wouldn’t know. He wasn’t conscious.” In the linoleum lights, his teeth seemed strangely sharp. “I hunted him down and made sure that fucker was taught a lesson he’d never forget. Carved it into his goddamn psyche.
“The moment you forget, the person ya could’ve been dies too. If you’re someone who can’t forget, hold tight to your memories and don’t let ‘em go. If you’re remembering for someone else, all the same. You’ve got a graveyard up there, brat.” He tapped his forehead. “Live for the dead. Protect your own. Pay shit back twofold. That’s the only advice I’ve got.”
“...You sound like a punk.”
“Ya got a problem with that?”
Before he could formulate a response, Rokuta bounded towards them, groceries in tow. “I got a lot of snacks! And a lot of super tasty karaage!”
“Oh, did you?” HANCHO peered into the bag, picking out a piece of karaage from the basket in Rokuta’s arms. “Don’t mind if I do, then.”
“Ah! My karaage!”
“Maybe I’ll take another one?”
“No, wait! U—um… Melon bread! Wouldn’t you prefer…”
Live for the dead. Protect your own. Pay shit back twofold. He mouthed the words.
Number One, Kazuma. Number Two, Jiro. Number Three, Mitsuki. Number Four, Yoshiro. Number Seven, Nanami. Number Eight, Hana.
Outside, the wildflowers bloomed. A carpet of erratic colors, whites and purples and yellows and red dotted the rich green grass. Above spanned the glittering blue sky, the beaming sun, the puffs of gentle clouds, swaying in the breeze. They would never experience that world, that miracle of a world free of the laboratory.
Not the taste of nikuman, or the playful squabbles of a once-stranger and a beloved brother over snacks. Not the soft murmur of a grocery store jingle in the air. Not the breathlessness of a sprint back to a bus stop, or the freezing air conditioning, harsh against sweaty skin. Ordinary things that were all so extraordinary, the gentle murmurs of spring.
He touched his forehead. A graveyard.
From Rokuta’s bag of goods, he sought out a bag of gummies. Sweet, frivolous, a luxury they couldn't normally afford.
“...Itsuki-niichan?”
Maybe it was time to start living.